I'M STILL A GOOSE - Blog

Best Nesters

Tue, 23 Sep 2025 01:38:23 GMT

Was it only a little more than two years ago that Ella informed us she was leaving for college, that Bob and I were becoming empty nesters? She emphasized that the tears, helicopter hysteria, and constant worrying were acute symptoms of this syndrome. I refused to be called an empty nester and began searching for alternative expressions that might adequately portray the depth of what it feels like for parents to watch their kids leave the nest. We deserve better than a tired cliché of a clinical expression.

Inspiration struck during a trip down memory lane — literally, Highway 27 — that reminded me of a gray day from my freshman year of college. I was headed back to Auburn on a Sunday afternoon in my sassy red Firebird. The problem was that I did not want to leave our Dooly County cabin, the security of home, the cozy fireplace, or my grandparents. It was 1989, and I had been grown just long enough to realize that home was far easier and more comfortable than calculus, economics, and life on my own. Auburn was fun, but those courses were humbling.

In a moment of near-rebellion, I turned around and drove back. When Mama and Daddy met me at the door, I informed them between hiccups and tears that I would not be returning to college. Without hesitation, they gently walked me to the car, diverting my attempts to rush inside.

Hugging me, Daddy said, "We got this." My mom and grandparents loaded up in one car, and my dad climbed in the driver's side of mine. "We are going to drive until you feel like you can go the rest of the way on your own."

Forty miles later, the crisis passed. Even though I still very much wanted to turn back, I realized that my parents had given me the strength and peace to continue without them.

For many years, I relied on this strength as I learned how to trust God as the source of all I needed. Psalm 84:3 tells us that "Even the sparrow has found a home… a place near Your altar, Lord Almighty, my King and my God." My parents built their best nest at the altar of our Holy Lord. They were my best nesters.

Best nesters. I like it.

Bob and I marvel that the nest we’ve built over twenty-three years hasn’t crumbled, and we wonder where the time went now that our three birdies are grown and gone. Our nest, tested by hardships, is also bound up with hard work, laughter, and a love for Christ. As parents, we put our kids in the metaphorical car of life and ride with them until they continue without us.

Elise, Dallas, and Ella now manage to circle back to us from time to time with renewed appreciation of the home we built for them. We smile (sometimes laugh) as they construct their lives with spouses, children, and careers, knowing that we did our best to raise them to walk in His word. All we can do now is pray that they choose to carry the strength of our family nest built at the altar of God. Our nest is far from perfect, but it is also far from empty.

Best nesters. Yes, I'll keep it.

By the way, this clever new name does not ease my symptoms of worrying, crying, or piloting a mama-made helicopter. Only time and travel do that.

I love my house, I love my nest. In all the world this nest is best. - P.D. Eastman, The Best Nest

Her Christmas Girls

Mon, 04 Dec 2023 01:53:19 GMT

In our Powers' home, we prepared for Christmas one birthday at a time. My dad’s birthday is during Thanksgiving, my sister Amy and I are next but only one week apart, and Mama’s birthday is the day after Christmas. All my life, we intentionally celebrated each of us giving those days the proper recognition that Mama felt it deserved. She called us her Christmas girls.

My parents gave me an incredible sister who is smarter, kinder, and a better cook than I could ever hope to be. Amy, our hummingbird in high heels, whirls around us with affection and tough love. Mama adored all kinds of really good food, and Amy (not me) can recreate her best dishes. I have the recipes in Mama’s beautiful handwriting, but Amy says the secret to Mama’s good food is to always add more butter, more sugar, or a lot more salt.

Over the years, December was the month for my parents to pamper, shop, celebrate, and love on me and Amy. Mama was always certain that we could each work out our busy schedules to be together. Mountain trips. Beach trips. Shopping trips. Skiing trips. Weekend getaways. Vacations by the Tuck River or Lake Burton. Sometimes it was a simple, short visit to toast with eggnog in her great room or a meal in a random restaurant at a halfway point. When she decided she wanted to see her girls and would not wait a moment longer, she found her way to us.

During this first advent season without Mama, we celebrate her in all our traditions. Tears are part of our new journey without her, but a lifetime of powerful memories sustain us.

There were still countless conversations in the hospital rooms throughout the summer. We really talked about everything as she gently prepared me for what she understood as inevitable, and I refused to accept. I confessed to her that I would not know what to do without her; there is still so much that I don’t know how to do. She adamantly reminded me of the beautiful life ahead of me as a wife, mother, and grandmother.

I am thankful for the last week when she told me to stop being dramatic. It is the only thing that stops my crying now, and I even laugh a little at the irony. Mama is the one who taught me to be dramatic.

I am thankful for the unwavering conviction in her voice when she said was not afraid. She knew she would meet her Lord and Savior. My father honored her choices and tenderly cared for her even though it broke his heart.

I am thankful for that last hours when I placed my hand over her heart so I could feel its determined beat as long as possible. Daddy, Amy, and I held her as she wanted in that last quiet moment.

Mama sealed her salvation with her steadfast faith. She showed us how to celebrate this new life- even this Christmas, with new meaning – to place our hope in Him, to embrace every opportunity to choose His peace that passes all understanding, and to find joy in the time we spend together even though it is without her. She reminded us of her source of strength.
We are forever her Christmas girls.

It's Time to Let Go

Tue, 01 Aug 2023 16:43:13 GMT

Ella leaves for college in a few days. My out-of-town travels will now be contained to opposite ends of the ever-lovely and never-crowded Interstate 75, from Atlanta to Orlando.

At Ella’s college orientation last month, an overzealous student worker manning the registration room thought he was safe to remind me that it is time to let go. Someone should have warned him not to say that to me. No worries - he lives.

Let go? Absolutely not! I don’t want to let go of kids constantly running through the house. Why must I let go of banter at the table, doors opening and shutting, and panicked calls for cash? How do I let go of the constant planning, going, laughing, yelling, and movement that kids bring to a home?

Bob seems fine but I know he dreads this as much as I do. Someone asked me if I still like my husband enough now that it will be ONLY the two of us. As long as Bob doesn’t tell me that it is time to let go, he should be ok.

Ella informs me that I am suffering from the beginning stages of empty nest syndrome. She explained that an empty nest implies that, yes, my home is now a vacant place from which the little babies have flown. Am I ready to let go?

Absolutely not!
It’s going to happen anyway.

This empty nest label lingers. It’s almost as depressing as the reality it describes. Did I really work this hard for so long to raise these kids only to discover that they left me with a barren birdhouse? A deserted den? I know that there must be a reasonably eloquent turn of phrase to posit here. Should home now become an aerie asylum? A completed cradle? A territory of tedious boredom I must endure until Ella returns for a visit?

I do not know how to drive away on move-in day. In searching my soul to find an antidote to this syndrome, I amped up my prayer life. God reminds me that He is my helper, but He is also Ella’s helper. He will never leave her or forsake her. He is my strength and refuge. He is also her strength and her refuge. I can let go and let God.

It turns out that the antidote to my syndrome is reminding myself that this empty house is still a rich refuge. My kids and their families can return home to our sanctuary from the wilderness of growing up and growing wiser. Our God is good, and my home is a place filled with His love, free laundry, and Bob’s good cooking.

My mission this summer was to reimagine this gut-wrenching rite of passage and pose it in a positive light. I plan to have a lot of fun in the coming years, and I do not want a depressing expression tagging my life. There is a lovely phase of life between this and the nursing home, and I intend to live it up.

Bob and I will now enjoy the honeymoon we never had a chance to experience. When we met, Dallas and Elise were four, so our relationship began with children in the house. Ella completed everything for us. It’s been twenty-three years of being together never not raising kids.

To sum it all up, I want to thank famed social scientist Brené Brown. I now understand that I might be moving from one kind of wilderness towards another. It’s been crazy exhausting and incredibly beautiful at the Arnold home for all these years. It’s been wild and full of all kinds of critters (thanks Dallas) as well as drama and fashion (thanks girls).

In her book, Braving the Wilderness, Brown bases her insights on a quote by Maya Angelou. “You are only free when you realize you belong no place- you belong every place- no place at all. The price is high. The reward is great.”

Ella, you must learn to brave your own wilderness.
Ella, you must learn to belong to yourself.
Ella, you will soon figure out that this home is an antidote to everything.

Just call first.
Let the honeymoon begin!

They Left Their Nets and Followed Him

Sun, 25 Sep 2022 22:28:45 GMT

Haiti, 2017

In Matthew 4:18-22, Jesus Calls the First Disciples. “While walking by the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers, Simon (who is called Peter) and Andrew his brother, casting a net into the sea, for they were fishermen. And he said to them, 'Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men.' Immediately they left their nets and followed him."

I don’t fish. At all. Never have. I’d rather ride in a boat, relax on a dock, or read a book by the sea. Please don’t ask me to bait a hook and cast a line. It’s just not who I am. I prefer watching others as they fish. I can get excited for Bob and the kids and be genuinely happy that THEY caught the fish.

I've read this passage from Matthew many times. I understand the part about fishers of men. I imagine the Sea of Galilee and how I desperately wish to see it one day. I consider how much courage it took for the father to selflessly watch his sons go. I marvel at the simple courage it took for those men to trust Jesus- completely.

All of these are intentional actions.
To look up.
To see Him.
To listen to Him.
To follow Him.
To become fishers of men.

Recently, I came across the passage in Matthew again. This time it stopped me in my tracks. Five powerful words got my attention:

Immediately, they left their nets.

Nets. I’ve learned over the years - the hard way- that the more I struggle with my personal nets, the more I entangle myself. My pride takes over and it takes a lot to convince me to put one down. To let go and let God. To surrender.

Nets trap. They are sometimes strongly knitted with lies, memories of past failures, broken hearts, bitterness, or fear. Some nets have thorns buried within the webs of hurtful words that others weaved through it. The more material used to build that net, the stronger it becomes.

Yet, these newly chosen disciples walked away from their nets immediately as they looked at Jesus.

Nets snare. I can eventually throw one down, but I also must avoid stepping back into it. If I’m not looking at Jesus, not praying my way through my days, or not reading His word, I stumble into a stupid net. Every single time, it will snatch my feet out from me, flip me upside down, stunned, and hanging on for dear life. Nets often hold my bad choices, mistakes, or regrets.

Then there are my safety nets. These are reassuring, easy, and predictable. These nets encourage me to be complacent, relaxed, and sheltered in comfortable routines and plans. Sometimes the net represents duties, obligations, and excuses so that my career, family, or lifestyle come before Him.

Every now and then, I need to put down the literal net- the internet. I should take time off from social media, emails, or online shopping for sales. To look up from my phone.
To be still and know that He is God.
To make time for moments of reflection.
To recognize when I am being called.

Jesus called these two disciples away from working with their father. They left their networks of friends and family to follow Him because they recognized the calling.

Just like He asked the disciples to follow Him, Jesus will ask me to leave the nets that separate me from His will.

Jesus will ask me to cast aside entanglements that distract me from looking up to see new possibilities in front of me.

Jesus will ask me to boldly step around snares that will trap and keep me from His plans for me so that I can do more than simply watch others as they fish for HIm.

So I pray:
Call me, Jesus.
Give me strength, wisdom, and courage to look up and leave any net immediately to follow you.
I’m ready to go fishing.
Amen.

Teacher People

Wed, 03 Aug 2022 00:36:44 GMT

I didn’t come back from the beach until 9:00 last Sunday night. This was the night before pre-planning when my really nice summer ended. I sat in the car a few extra minutes savoring the precious quiet moments of what was left of vacation. Summer life had been good.

It can be a painful process for all teacher people to transition from summer mode to school mode. When the transition is complete, it is an incredible sight to behold. We harness all our renewed energy to prepare for that first day of school.

When asked, we can also recall that very first day of school. Armored with lists, plans, and schedules, teachers can describe in fascinating detail that first moment when their new classroom door closed and their work began.

My first day of teaching French was in a classroom in Auburn University's Haley Center. I quickly discovered my inability to write on a blackboard and talk at the same time. I was terrified AND chalk dust soon covered my suit jacket complete with shoulder pads. It was 1992, so I wore the matching dress shorts , a look that for me has unfortunately come back in style.

The next day, I found an empty classroom. For hours, I practiced twisting around to be able to speak to students as I trained my hand to be steady. No teacher wants to shake the underarm fat.

Since then, I have been teaching everything from college to kindergarten. That’s thirty years of watching education change and kids come and go, yet I still have eight more to go in Georgia before I think about retiring. It’s been thirty years of hearing my soul sigh when my teacher people move on to new schools.

Do they realize how they graciously provided the fruit of the spirit to those around them? Do they realize that when they were teaching kids, they were teaching me, too?

Mandy showed me how to love elementary kids. At a time when I only knew what I thought I knew, she modeled excellence through her loving voice. Her tone of speech, her choice of words, and her command of every aspect of her classroom creates an atmosphere of order and affection in which students thrive. I wish I had a manual of all the creative things she has said to her students over the years.

Rachel spreads pure joy. She is an angel on earth! She easily brings others to moments of crazy wonder with her laughter, jokes, and willingness to do anything for anyone. It also gave me joy to see Hollie, my daughter’s former babysitter, embrace a year of teaching. Hollie’s joy in the Lord that comes from her belief that all things are possible.

Sundai has an uncanny understanding of peace. She knows searching for peace in a school is not about creating a perfect set of teaching conditions. She is not afraid to speak honestly or sit respectfully at a table with people of different backgrounds, abilities, and agendas. How many times did I look at her during meetings for balance? She knows peace begins with an open table. She understands that peace begins by giving others a place at that table.

Ashlee carefully camouflages the patience of a saint by sashaying her happy pixie-like self through the halls. You see her singing and playing with her kiddos as she reaches into their guarded hearts and brings out hope-covered giggles. I admire how she listens and then mixes her responses to others with a dash of salt, a taste of sweet, and a little bit of spice.

The kindness of Laura is a beautiful reflection of her spirit. She started my day with genuine friendship filled with gracious, loving kindness. Laura is a fountain of simple gifts and soft words of encouragement that cascade over others. Her generosity nurtures people.

If goodness is a food, it is banana bread. I will miss the goodness of Julie who shared inspiration, laughter, banana bread, and casseroles. We never had time to have deep conversations of life, but there were good, good moments of fellowship at my door when I needed them most. It is always just good to see her.

I watched Rebecca reclaim her life, standing faithfully on the promises of His word. I glimpsed my former self in her journey of moving home, raising daughters, teaching, going back to school, and never turning her back on love until she found it. She possesses a level of endurance that only those who have walked in her footsteps can appreciate.

Libby is clothed in a gentle spirit and a calm exterior anchored on a formidable rock of faith. She can’t be shaken. as well as one of the most authentic teachers I have ever known. She is the hands and feet of Jesus, accepting and loving everyone. Cindy is another teacher who always greets others with a gentle smile, a gentle hug, and a gentle heart.

Jackie gives her students and their families unwavering devotion. She does her job for the long-term good of student, not just immediate short-term success. Jackie teaches them how to control and manage their thoughts, words, and actions as they embrace a new language. Jackie rests in the security of good stewardship because of her humble, hardworking spirit of self-control.

I will miss these teacher people more than they realize. Maybe more than they will miss me. As I say a prayer for their first day at new endeavors with new plans, agendas, faces, and stories, I hope it is memorable and full of good fruit.

Their new teacher people don’t quite know what a blessing is on the way.

Ruby Red Hiking Shoes

Mon, 30 May 2022 09:29:49 GMT

It doesn’t matter how matter old I am, I still feel the same childlike enthusiasm for traveling. Being in Nepal was a bit like being Dorothy in Oz. Dorothy had her ruby red slippers.

I had my ruby red hiking shoes. They were magical.

I clicked my heels and woke up in old mountain village, hiking up trails, trudging along busy streets in Kathmandu, and balancing across swinging bridges.
I clicked my heels and descended into a cave to discover a hidden underground waterfall.
I clicked my heels and found myself watching cows graze through the center of a Tibetan refugee camp.
I clicked my heels and rode on an Asian elephant named Serkali across a Chitwan jungle preserve. We found a mama rhino and her baby.
I clicked my heels and flew alongside the Himalayas just to glimpse Mt. Everest.

Our group did not have a yellow brick road to follow. Instead, we circled a famous, well-traveled hippie trail – twice. The journey from Kathmandu to Bandipur to Pokhara to Chitwan and back to Kathmandu was everything new I ever hoped to find in a trip.

It is safe to say that not only was I Dorothy (sans braids), but I actually managed to channel every character (except Toto) in the famous story in just under fourteen days. There were even quite a few flying monkeys darting about.

While there was no tornado, I did experience pre-monsoon season that they say came early. Wind, rain, and hail like I’ve never experienced. There were no munchkins to send me off, but for weeks leading up to the trip, my dear friends encouraged me to follow through with my plans. Judy, Irena, Allyson, and Jeni- thank you. I skipped, tripped, walked, and hiked my way through Nepal because of you.

Scarecrow: I sang if I only had a brain as I charged back up five steep flights of steps to a rooftop restaurant to find my cell phone right where I had left it an hour earlier. This was within first 24 hours of landing. Ten days later I dropped and shattered the screen on the oldest bricks in the oldest section of Kathmandu.

Tin Man: I reverently and silently cried, locked in the moment, as I witnessed Hindu funeral ceremonies by the fiver.

Cowardly Lion: I hiked up a mountain trail one day, but I stopped just shy of the top because I was truly deeply and correctly afraid that I wouldn’t be able to make my legs carry me down later.

I can safely add Glenda the Good Witch to my repertoire. I just left a mini-shopping spree in the duty-free shops of Doha, Qatar. I was all smiles, giggles, and bubbles as I strode past Tiffany’s and Dolce & Gabana on my way to La Durée and Harrod’s Tea Room for divine raspberry sorbet. Just like Glenda, I felt the need to accessorize and chose new tote bag from my favorite store.

I was often Elphaba because nothing was gonna bring me down… except maybe a little critter under my bed playing with a piece of plastic.
In the Chitwan jungle.
At 2:00 am.
That made me sit up.
And stay awake.
And call my husband who only laughed.

Did I meet a wizard in Nepal? I discovered that wisdom doesn’t have to come from just one person. The wizards I encountered carried a common theme, one of purpose, hard work, and camels. It was our tour guide who told me a story about camels. It was perfectly timed but deserves its own post. More on that later.

I met a badass Australian woman named Holly, who simply decided one day that she wanted to trek the Himalayas. She traveled alone from Brisbane and completed base camp Mount Everest trek- up and back in about 12 days. Badass.

I met Ram, the owner of the travel group who guided us around Nepal. Ram has already reached the summit Mount Everest once, and he will go again this summer. He told me that when he was a child, he dreamed about the top of the mountains surrounding his home. It took him twenty years, but he realized his dream. He is now an entrepreneur who turned his passion into an excellent tour company. Find him on YouTube. Really.

If you didn’t know already, GSW has excellent wizards, but Keeton and Kailash, a dynamic duo of math and art, created an incredible experience for GSW students. I am very grateful that they arranged for me to work with educators in Nepal. This unique collaboration yielded the establishment of important relationships with other schools. Well done.

Just as Dorothy looked over the field of flowers and glimpsed the palace of Oz for the first time, I sat on a hilltop in Pokhara waiting for daybreak. Seeing the Himalayan mountains for the first time forced me to recognize the power of a single image. If I fix my eyes only one what is obvious in front of me, like the pretty green hills, I already think I know what I am going to see. I actually miss everything else God is offering me. It doesn’t happen much, but I was without words that morning. I still am.

Each day that I spoke to my kids back home, I said,
I am calling from your tomorrow. Don’t worry- it is going to be a great day.

As my two weeks came to an end, I peacefully clicked the heels of those ruby red hiking shoes three times and repeated,
There’s no place like home.
There’s no place like home.
There’s no place like home.

On this incredible trip to Oz, I learned:
My tomorrow is GOOD. In Nepal or in Americus.
I stand on His promise.
I hold onto it firmly.
I have a future I can ever imagine for myself.

I may wake up tired and a bit confused to find myself in my own bed in Americus.
Without bells in the background.
Without monkeys scampering across rooftops.
Without a MoMo to eat.

But that’s ok too.
I was just in my tomorrow.
I know today will be a beautiful day.

Here’s a shout out to Brooke’s because those hiking shoes turned out to be the single best travel purchase that I’ve ever made. They were magical, but they only worked because I made a step of yes while wearing them. I asked what it would take for me to be able to trek up to the base camp of Mt. Everest. All my wizards said that I could do it. I just need to run about five miles a day for a year to train.

Well, anything is possible.

All The Stars Are Laughing

Sun, 08 May 2022 19:17:32 GMT

Yes... I'm Still a Goose!

Fri, 08 Apr 2022 19:10:01 GMT

--from a previous post and dedicated to readers who do not know what to do or what to say about geese--

I asked my husband Bob one time to tell me what kind of bird I resembled. I thought of a hummingbird because it flutters around mesmerizing those who watch. Perhaps a swan, graceful and beautiful.

Nope- no romantic answers from my guy. He said. “Jo- you are a goose!” I was mortified and offended. I immediately began searching for redemptive qualities in geese.

Yep, I am a goose. And I kinda like it.
I lead or I follow, depending on whom I am flying with on any given day.
I fly or I float, depending on the activity or event.

According to my brief yet extensive research, geese are considered to be among the finest and most elegant looking birds that nature has acquainted us with. I like that I found such descriptive words as amicable, loyal, caring, and helpful. These traits with which a goose is identified remind me of the person I aspire to be.

And it gets more interesting. Geese fly together in that giant “V” because it helps each bird fly stronger and with more purpose than it could if it were alone. One goose gets tired, so it rotates back giving another goose the front position. Lifting power in that formation ensures group support for one another. A gaggle of geese cares for one another. If one goose becomes sick or wounded, the group simply will not fly off without it. A few will follow the ailing goose to protect him. The familiar honk we hear is actually encouragement. The loving power of geese is quite impressive.

That’s when I knew Bob was right. I am a goose and it’s all about the honk.

I’m going to honk now- encouragement, love, and support. We teachers are a great big gaggle of geese.

Teachers are a special kind of family because we chose each other. We aren't born into our schools. We don’t have a lifetime of memories and love that build relationships. Nope – we sign up for the job. Literally, we sign contract after contract devoting our time and talents to schools and children, yet we evolve into a family like no kid has ever experienced.

It is not perfect. It IS worth it.

A true teacher will pour out his or her best, emptying all emotional and physical resources into nurturing the potential of each kid in the room. In that idea, teachers who love their jobs are united. Unity is the best thing we have going for us. It is our most precious asset. We must respect talents and strengths that each person brings to our school homes.

We must listen. We are intentional about it, hearing each other intelligently.

We must honor our calling as teachers to remain professional. One of our greatest strengths is that we honor our friendships. We must continue to be loving, caring, and merciful to everyone in this building. How many different ways do we teachers lift one another up, support each other in good and bad times? We do this by reminding each other to find joy and strength in the calling we have chosen. Our words are powerful. For good or bad, whether we intend them to sting or not.

We must teach. And while we are teaching, we will be on guard, diligently watching ourselves so that we don’t forget what we have seen happen when a group of dedicated professionals contribute so much of ourselves into creating a visions for wonderful schools.

I am also thankful for encouragement I receive from my dearest friends and family by my side, across the world, down the hall, in the state next door, or a phone call away. Because in all my years of teaching and living, my greatest moments of happiness at have come from the beautiful relationships I have made... beautiful people flying with me and teaching me how to fly higher and stronger.

Yes, I am still a goose.
And I love it!

Two Places At Once

Sun, 27 Feb 2022 19:51:43 GMT

Bob and I had only been dating a few weeks when he gave me a paperback copy of A Walk to Remember. My favorite part of the book was Landon loving Jamie so much that he wanted to fulfill her bucket list of wishes. He took her to stand on the state line and placed her feet on both sides.

Her wish? She wanted to be in two places at once.

Since that moment, I have wondered why Jamie so badly wanted this. I even took this picture at the Hoover Dam last June. Just as Jamie stood on either side of two state lines, I stood in the middle of the dam (sweating profusely) with one foot in Nevada and one foot in Arizona. I immediately thought of this scene in the book and laughed. I still didn’t quite get it.

That changed on February 11th. I discovered my own reason for wanting to be in two places at once. His name is Sam, and he is my first grandchild.

My friends talked incessantly about how incredible it is to be a grandparent.
That there’s nothing like it. That it is the best club to join.
That I’m going to love every moment.

When Elise and Matt handed me Sam, it was the lightest feeling of joy I have ever been blessed to experience. Grandparents all around the world acknowledge this. My heart grew with pride, doubled with laughter and silly talk, and I have this crazy desire to show every single person I meet a picture of him!

All of that is true and more. I am unapologetic as I compulsively share my wonder over this amazing thing. I cannot imagine what it is like to have more than one grandchild.

In preparation for becoming a grandmama, I asked my youngest students at school to train me. Oh my, they were excited to teach me, so we had a French lesson about family. These kids are experts in their field with a vast array of knowledge and opinions. They really understand what makes for a good grandparent- grandchild relationship. I was mesmerized by their enthusiasm.

They said I must be kind, nice, and ready to smile and laugh.
-I should be ready to play, to sing, to dance, and to give lots of kisses.
-I might could go on walks and picnics, help pick out clothes, tie shoes, and clean the bathrooms.
-I need toys of course, and soft beds, and lots of books and lots of music.
-I will protect him, teach him French and Spanish, and build forts inside and out.
- I must cook for him- cereal, yogurt, cookies, and pizza and always have plenty of cold chocolate milk in the frig.
-I must give him all my love- always with the biggest hugs.

I took all this preparation with me to Orlando to meet Sam. Every word was of advice was perfect. It all came true.

On the day, I was preparing to come home, I realized that throughout all my grandmama training, I forgot to ask what I realize is the essential question. How do I say goodbye?

No one warned me what it would feel like to leave him. All the grandparents with out-of-town grandkids knew what was coming and couldn’t prepare me for it- that moment I had to kiss Sam goodbye, hand him back to his mom and dad, and say see you soon.

Part of me understands that I must get comfortable with this uncomfortable longing as quickly as possible, put my grandmama panties on, and focus on the joy. Yet, my new grandmama heart aches to be close enough to touch, hold, smell, and sing to Sam whenever I want.

When I returned to school, I explained this dilemma to my students. I asked how they did it- how they parted ways with their people. They laughed but then got down to business. They explained that all I need is a plan- one that includes a special goodbye song, a hug and kiss.

They reminded me that I could never cry and make my grandchild sad. I could not sneak away while he slept. That is forbidden! My favorite suggestion came from the kid who approached me with a conspiratorial whisper. He suggested I should just put my grandson in the car and take him with me because that is what the best grandparents do!

Oh, these students of mine made everything all better because I realize I can do what I do best. I will plan trip after trip back down the sweetest road that exists… the road to my grandchild’s house.

PS. They gave me this grandchild and it seems that are now asking me to share him nicely with other grandparents. It is a good thing that I love them too!

Parson Branch Road at Cades Cove- Bob's Version

Sat, 26 Feb 2022 14:48:39 GMT

We were in a 2-wheel drive family SUV. Parson Branch Road didn’t allow us to turn around. We plodded deeper into this dense forest. I was alarmed that sunlight could not penetrate the canopy. JoAnna and I had chosen an unfamiliar trail and fear of this unknown quickly filled our thoughts.

We supported our decision to take this trail, but we had no idea how the beautiful park crowded with hundreds of people could suddenly become so isolated, quiet, and devoid of meadow life. Our beautiful fall afternoon immediately transformed as we crossed that bridge, and we realized there was no turning back.

What if we met another vehicle or came upon a fallen tree or encountered car trouble? We were headed into the unknown as earlier pioneers did. I had no idea what waited ahead or if we would make it out of the forest before the park gate closed at the end.

Our arrogance and confidence turned to fear and concern for ourselves and young daughter. As it became darker, we only had headlights to allow us to navigate the crooked unkept back mountain trail.
I felt a flood of emotional relief as we emerged on the other side. This end was just as dramatic as the entrance. We nearly cried because our joy was so great at seeing a paved mountain road.

It was as if JoAnna and I entered a time transfer and exited just as dramatically. This adventure left an impressionable memory and awareness of just how fortunate we were to survive this nice afternoon drive.

This was definitely our greatest and scariest adventure together. They say others travel this trail for fun.